


Circinus

by Trilies



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Dimiclaude Birthday Week 2020, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilies/pseuds/Trilies
Summary: Dimitri thinks that Claude von Riegan, deceitful and playful heir to the Riegan name, is very much someone with a soul like the moon.Claude thinks that Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, serious and steadfast crown prince of Faerghus, is a shining fairytale star.They're both wrong, and they begin to learn in what ways as they spend more time with one another.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Circinus

The first time that he sees Claude von Riegan, surprise heir to the Reigan lineage and at a distance, Dimitri thinks he is a person very much like the moon in all the worst ways.  
  
They are opposites, or at least they are shallowly opposites, and Dimitri cannot help but be a little bit annoyed at him, in some ways. It's not as if he would give _himself_ any credit, after all. Best as he can, Dimitri tries to uphold the values of his kingdom, yes. He tries to be honorable, and he tries to be fair, and he tries to understand people as best he possibly can in order to make those within Faerghus happy. Yet he cannot say the same for him _self_ as a person.  
  
Felix is right when he calls him a boar.  
  
Dimitri tries regardless, and hints at his own flaws before stepping away from any deeper conversation on the matter. He tries to be honest, and fair, and just. If he is not truly any of those things deep down inside, then he hopes he can at least uphold them in the rest of the world. If he succeeds is something he cannot judge.  
  
In contrast, Claude von Riegan almost seems to _flaunt_ the very idea of nobility, and the way one should ideally conduct themselves on the battlefield so that there is a difference between a person and a common beast. (Dimitri does not think there is much of a difference at all, but that is another discussion, and a discussion not involving Claude.) When he was younger, he was put through many classes on proper manners, and how to conduct one's self. Claude only has manners when he wants to, and he often doesn't seem to want to. For a long time, Dimitri views that as a sort of disrespect, that Claude doesn't respect or care about anyone else.  
  
And then there are the tricks, of course. The schemes Claude so very quickly becomes known for. 'Honor' is a word with a definition for Claude, it seems, and not much else. As Dimitri favors the lance, and Claude the bow, they do not often spar in the training grounds, or even see each other in the same area. The one time Dimitri manages, by pure chance, to get a session in with Claude, it is because Dedue had gotten called aside by the Professor for help with something, and Dimitri's adjusted schedule had him stumble upon Claude pondering one of the practice axes.  
  
Yet for any technical skill that he still had to work on, Claude had been... _sly_. Yes, that had been the polite word to use. He had feinted, and used interesting ideas for momentum with his axe's swings, and used his legs and the rest of his body in curious ways that Felix no doubt would have approved of if he'd seen. Dimitri had been impressed at first, even if he'd ultimately won in a melee fight, and then a little wary, because in those moves he had seen connections to Claude's schemes on the battlefield.  
  
On _and_ off the battlefield, as a matter of fact. After a point, everyone knows about Claude's interest in dabbling with potions, and poisons, and all manner of plantlife. There are other things, too, that require a bit more sleight of hand: weapons fiddled with, buttons tampered so pants fell down around one's ankles, the call from a crush in the audience that distracted some of those less focused. The variety is impressive. What Dimitri views as a cowardice, a disrespect to one's opponent? Less so.  
  
That is the first time. _Those_ are the first times. Just glimpses of a stranger from far away, thinking he sees the laughing face of the moon before it twists and reveals to him only darkness, and deceit, and secrets.  
  
All the times after... Oh, the times after. He thinks he sees the moon in the crescent of Claude's smile when the two of them happen to meet up in the stables, soft and mostly hidden but something bright, there. He thinks he sees the moon when Claude's eyes flutter a little lower, a third quarter brilliance, dragged by sleep or thought or maybe both when he stumbles upon the other house leader in the library in the dead of night. They both search for answers to questions they share with no one else. Dimitri does not ask Claude for his, at any rate. Despite his earlier unkind thoughts, Claude returns the courtesy, and does not ask Dimitri of his, either.   
  
Or perhaps he already knows. Claude is the moon, he still thinks, and he feels so seen through - like a simple wretched wolf, alone in the shadows of scattered trees before clouds part and the full moon reveals him in all his miserable glory. This is all just a very long way to say that Claude von Riegan is clever, and perhaps the most clever student in all of Garreg Mach.   
  
Either way, Dimitri views him keep his quiet, and he watches the tender way he handles horses, and he thinks that perhaps it is a bit too unkind, too hasty, to say negative things about Claude. It is almost amusing, honestly, how quickly his opinions turn around from him. The school year hardly passes at all before they shift - just as patiently and quickly as the moon itself does, ironically enough. Claude is deceitful, and dishonorable, and seems perfectly at ease tossing away all signs of respect for other people...   
  
Except he is clever, seeing routes that would go amiss otherwise, and directing his allies to perfect position on a battlefield, or perfect so long as they listen. It is a tactical skill Dimitri wishes he possessed himself, honestly. Of course he understands the basic strategies that he has had tutors instruct him on, and he listens attentively when the Professor gives lectures on the subject or instructs them on a task. Yet all he can do in the end is copy what he is taught and apply things in the most straight forward of ways - a simple mimicry. Frankly, it is not too unlike how a person can only cook good food from recipe books or under instruction, with no real ability to create new dishes or twist them into something new on their own.   
  
To contrast, Claude is a master chef, and Dimitri more than a couple of times finds himself caught off guard by the decisions he makes even when they are on the same side with a similar mission out from Garreg Mach. Once, he tries to ask him how he comes up with such clever strategies, on one of those mornings when they run into each other at the stables and go riding together. Claude only winks at him, able to prepare his horse's saddle without even looking.   
  
"Now now, Your Princeliness!" he laughs, fingers moving so quickly, so nimbly. "I can't give away all my secrets to you when we still have Gronder Field to look forward to!"   
  
It's a nice laugh, Dimitri thinks. Bright and sharp. It should fit Claude, because it fits like the sharp teasing crescent of the moon, but it does not. "Then will you give away some of your secrets after Gronder?" he asks, not dislodged at all from what he is aiming for.   
  
Another laugh, but it seems different, somehow. Softer? More from the depths of his chest than the back of his throat. "You really are a stubborn one, Your Princeliness," he says, but ultimately does not answer him as they guide their steeds out from the stable. Instead, his eyes go skywards, and light up. Brighter than the moon, somehow. "Looks like someone's on wyvern duty."   
  
Someone is; the pale gray hair that blends in with monastery stone gives Dimitri due cause to think it Ashe. "You know, I've never seen wyverns so much before I came to Garreg Mach," he says, conversationally, which is true, he strives to make most things that leave his lips. Faerghus might have the rough and stony landscapes which wyverns no doubt appreciate, from what he understands of their nesting habits, but it has such places because it is a cold and demanding place. Wyverns can survive certain amounts of cold, yes, but Faerghus is a... more demanding kind of place. It takes a lot of effort to make a wyvern comfortable just in one place, considering the climate, and it's usually not done in Faerghus. The only people who'd have the ability or wealth would be nobility, and the only good it would do would be to show off. Pegasi, specifically the kind of breed that prosper in Northern Fodlan, do much better, and are more practical besides with their similarities to horses.   
  
Dimitri isn't entirely certain if the Alliance has similar issues, although he knows the climate is much warmer there. Perhaps wyverns fare better like that. Still, the light in Claude's eyes is hard to miss. "Do you like wyverns?" he asks, polite, but also interested. Claude is the enigma of the monastery; there's no way he can't be. "Certainly you like horses well enough, from what I have seen."   
  
Those glittering eyes shift towards him, somehow both subdued but alight with something else. Dimitri wishes he could name it. "I definitely have more than enough experience with wyverns," he says, and then shifts the conversation away slightly towards the kind of sturdy horse breeds which Faerghus favors. Dimitri doesn't realize he's done it so skillfully, sidestepped the question and giving away anything further about himself, until some time into the next week, and he doesn't think much of it. Darkness, and unknowing, those are also parts of the moon. Those are parts of Claude.  
  
And yet, with that conversation, with so many more conversations which follow after it, he has to admit that it feels as though he is seeing the full side of it again. Claude's casualness, his lack of titles or careless disregard for certain manners, isn't a sign that he doesn't _respect_ anyone. It is simply that he doesn't respect the traditional idea of what respect looks like, what respect is on the most shallow of levels. The more he talks, the more he pays attention, the more he asks questions - that is Claude's respect, he thinks.  
  
At least, that is Dimitri's theory, and he doesn't realize how much Claude has come to respect _him_ , by this metric, until one afternoon after lunch does he whirl away from a pair of scattering guards that had been far too _gossipy_. He is expecting nothing but empty brick halls and distant noise, surroundings that will allow him to take a breath and cool his breath until he is certain that he will not grip his gauntlets so tightly that they warp beneath his palms. Goddess knows he certainly needs this and, if She will not give him much _other_ things, such as peace, then She could at least give him this.   
  
The Goddess does not give him this, which, considering his and Her track record together in the grand scheme of life, Dimitri is not surprised by. Yet She does not twist the knife in today, apparently, because it is Claude who is waiting with his shoulder casually pressed against the frame of a nearby door. Those brilliant green eyes, revealing like moonlight, go into Dimitri once again. He's smiling again, a full moon smile. "Well!" he says, perfectly cheery. "So Garreg Mach's fairytale prince indeed has a sharp tongue. Who knew! Besides I guess the Faerghus soldiers."   
  
Not a lot of things could be more shameful or embarrassing than to hear himself referred to as a _fairytale prince_ , when Dimitri knows himself to be perhaps more a fairytale monster deep down inside. Yet one of those is certainly being caught losing his temper, at one of his own soldiers, by a fellow house leader. Somehow, that it is Claude somehow makes it feel more shameful than if it were Edelgard. He'd wonder why - he _will_ wonder why - later. For now, he squares his shoulders again, and bows his head apologetically. "I'm sorry that you had to see that, Claude. It was a distasteful way for me to act."   
  
From someone like Claude, he'd almost expect this to be used against him, and yet he also does _not_ expect that. Dimitri supposes he doesn't really know what to expect at all. Yet he knows what he _doesn't_ expect, and it is a click of Claude's tongue, and the raise of his eyebrows when Dimitri straightens up. "Why are you apologizing?" he asks, still sounding so amused. "They were spreading misinformation about Dedue, weren't they? Of course you'd be in the right to get upset."   
  
In a way he cannot articulate, Dimitri feels as though there's a trap that's been laid down around his feet, but he cannot recognize it or see the reason for its existence. All he can do is frown slightly, brows furrowed. "They were spreading misinformation about _Duscur_ ," he corrects. "Some of it was about Dedue in particular, yes, but it was not because of him specifically, although he does have a position few would be close to. Yet to them, they conflate the two, and thus every falsehood that comes to their heads is applied as if to the same and _wrong_ source."  
  
Anger starts to bubble up in him again, a frantic burning thing, and Dimitri forces himself to remember his breathing so that he may calm it down. This is not a battlefield. This is not a war. This is simply himself, in a school where they are all supposed to be (although, as of late, not exactly _guaranteed_ ) to be safe. This is simply him, and Claude von Riegan, who is not an enemy.  
  
Claude von Riegan who looks at him almost as if he's - won some sort of tournament, given the right answer to a quiz. Or as though he's a prize he's been aiming for. "You know there's a lot of gossip about how you're the one person in all of Fodlan that doesn't say Duscur was behind the Tragedy," he says. "I guess it's true." And normally, when people realize that... It's subtle, the way they look at him, they way they think of him. But it changes, like he's a fool, like he's naive and damaged instead of - "You're probably right, although it's surprising that you think that way."  
  
Dimitri blinks, and reassesses Claude. There's still a smile on his face, but it's partially hidden by the curl of his hand on his chin, and overshadowed by the deepness of his stare as he looks away somewhere. "I suppose it is," he says, trying to decipher that look on Claude's face. "I know it is not a popular opinion to have... as you no doubt clearly saw, just a moment ago." When Dimitri had to confront his own knights on the matter. "But-" And he steels himself. "No one else was there but myself. I know what I saw." His hands start to curl again, and he forces them to not.  
  
He knows. He _knows_.  
  
And Claude looks at him, and he says, "I know."  
  
For many years, he thinks, there has been a knot in his chest. It's- *hurt*, to be the one person calling out the truth. After all, he's been the only person calling this all out for so _long_. Dedue knows the truth, of course, but Dedue does not have a voice in Faerghus. Encounters like these show that well enough; Dedue has only been patient and dedicated the entire time yet the rumors still flow like wine at a festival. Dimitri knows of no one else, not even his close friends, that tries to yell the truth so much. So... it is up to him. And it hurts.  
  
And it lessens when Claude looks at him and says, "I know."  
  
While Dimitri is still reeling from this, Claude pushes himself off of the doorframe and closer to him so that he can pat his hand on Dimitri's shoulder with a low laugh. "I knew you were stubborn and honest from the first day I met you, Your Princeliness, but I never knew this much!" he laughs, eyes shining. "I'll be sure to take advantage of you in the future when we have to work with each other!"  
  
"Of course." Dimitri bows his head, and resists the urge, now, not to clench his fists but instead to reach up with his fingers sliding into the gaps of Claude's own. "When you are Duke Riegan, and I am the king of Faerghus. But will you?"  
  
Claude laughs some more, and pulls away. "You really are the most fun person to tease in this entire academy," he tells him, and then turns away with a relaxed wave of his hand. "Well, keep speaking up, Your Princeliness. It's a better quality than I think you ever get credit for." And then he's gone, disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Dimitri can only stare at the empty space in which he once stood.  
  
After that... Somehow, that encounter feels as if it should only reinforce Claude's mysterious position as the moon, and yet it doesn't. All it does is make Dimitri watch him even more, and he realizes something that he hadn't before. In practice fights, especially those involving groups fighting against groups, he had always assumed Claude to not be interested in winning. Oh, of course he had an interesting in coming out on top in a battle, but he didn't want to take out as many of the opposing team as he could. He didn't throw himself into battle, like Dimitri, or Edelgard. So, Dimitri had figured he had no interest in winning.  
  
But the more he watches, the more he realizes that's actually not true at all. Claude wants to win, as badly as any of them want to win. Yet his definition of _winning_ is completely different from the rest of them. Claude doesn't care about if the Golden Deer beat the most out of any other house. Dimitri suspects he might not even necessarily care about winning the battle, although it is a desirable goal.  
  
Claude cares about how many of his own make it through the battle. He cares more about people's lives, if each side can avoid the terrible losses that happen in war. All of this is only practice for all of them, practice for when Faerghus inevitably has to fight off another campaign from Sreng, or for when the Empire may have to deal with certain island nations again such as it so recently had with Brigid. Yet Claude feels like he's _really_ practicing for that, for a day when he genuinely will try and work out some miracle scenario where both sides won't have to be as hurt as they would be otherwise.  
  
Somehow, it doesn't seem to match this kind of person: pragmatic, deceitful, so separate from others despite how easy it is to get along with him.  
  
Somehow, it matches him perfectly, and Dimitri thinks he starts to understand him, bit by bit, throughout the school year. Never completely, he would never dare to be so presumptuous, but... A bit. He'd love to talk to him about it - or maybe he would just love to talk to anyone at all, not worry about the secrets weighing heavy across his shoulders - but it's hard to grab a moment of Claude's time as the year continues. Still, he looks at him from afar, and he realizes that Claude is not dishonorable like he had once thought.  
  
Or, if he is dishonorable, it is in duty to a greater honor: the honor of ensuring the lives of other people. The honor of looking out for his people and keeping them safe. Dimitri has read old fairy tales of men like that, knights and kings who took on great shame in order to help someone in need. In that light... Is Claude not one of the most honorable men he's met?  
  
He looks at Claude from afar, and realizes he is not a moon.  
  
Claude is a star.  
  
Even many years later - five years, to be exact - and Dimitri still thinks this as he pierces through the fields of Gronder in a sick mimicry of a warm schoolday years ago. He thinks this when he slashes through a soldier that's in his way, and looks up to the sky, where a wyvern whiter than clouds slices through the air as easily as his blade had slashed through a living person. It's been a long time, so very long, but he can still recognize the person sitting atop the creature no matter the distance. Maybe it is because Claude is one of the few people with brown skin in Fodlan. Maybe it is because the other man still wears golden yellow even though their academy is no longer.  
  
Maybe it is because Claude is like a guiding star, and there is not a single person who cannot look to him for guidance on the way to a brighter future.  
  
Dimitri cannot look at him. He turns away.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The first time he sees Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of Faerghus and at a distance, Claude's first impression is that he's exactly the kind of star one would expect upon hearing the very word "prince".  
  
Granted, it's the Fodlan definition of a prince, because all the princes Claude has _personally_ known up to this point are really rather the opposite. Stubborn, which isn't necessarily bad, brutish, which kind of is, and all so openly distasteful of the bright green of his eyes.... In contrast, when he'd managed to get a hand on some Fodlan books, the princes in their stories certainly seemed quite different. Gallant, noble, and never one to be rude if there was no reason for it.  
  
What a concept, right?  
  
Claude always thought that kind of thing was just what you used to tell kids, assuming even they were able to believe it. You know, the same made up tales like those of men who could lift mountains over their head, and so, in Fodlan, apparently they have polite and gallant princes. Even when he had been younger, Claude had thought that kind of silly, but had been willing to indulge such things in the name of a good story. After all, real life... real life couldn't be so kind to a prince. Thus, any prince that might need to survive had to be something different entirely. Something not particularly gallant, and sometimes more charming than necessarily polite. Clever, above all else.  
  
And yet there he is, Crown Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He's almost so fairytale that Claude ponders if he's _dreaming_ , dozed off in the carriage with any number of books on his lap. Even his appearance is like those he used to read about: blond, blue eyed, shoulders he holds straight. It's pure coincidence that he's in the house with a scheme of blue, of course, but, boy, doesn't _that_ only add to the image? It's almost impressive, honestly. Wait, no, it _is_ impressive, especially with what he knows of the Tragedy that has befallen the Faerghus royal family in recent times. Claude isn't sure what he was expecting, besides maybe not this.  
  
It's hard to say, besides, if anything else would have made his initial interactions with Dimitri a little less... _stiff_. The things they don't tell you about fairytale princes is that all that gallantry and politeness is kind of - well, there are plenty of polite ways to describe it, but Claude goes with "annoying" on his worse days and "stifling" on better ones. Dimitri has a very strict idea of how things should go, from what Claude can tell, which fits most nobility that Claude has ever met in his life. Even those in Almyra, although in a different direction than any Fodlan nation.  
  
Although he supposes he should be glad for it, honestly. Claude has a lot of plans for the future, things he wants to accomplish no matter how high the odds are stacked against him. It'd be foolish to think that stack isn't absolutely _towering_. If he can have just one easy thing up ahead of him in any way, well, an upfront and strict king in a nearby nation isn't the worst thing in the world. It's just, you know, a little tiresome or bothersome now in the present, although Claude can't imagine how it is to actually be in the Blue Lion house.  
  
That's just what he thinks of Dimitri on the worse days, because he's honestly not _that_ bad. At his heart, Claude is certain he's a good person. In fact, he _knows_ he's a good person, because Claude has functioning eyes, and he's more than well aware of how Dimitri trains almost more religiously than he attends church choir sessions, all in the name of protecting those he cares about, or those who cannot protect themselves.  
  
Claude learns _that_ not through rumor or secondhand conversation, but instead on a rare day when he's decided to polish up his axe skills and Dimitri happens to walk in on him. It's not as if Claude really _needs_ further confirmation on how skilled His Princeliness is with a lance, although it's hard to miss Dimitri's own interest at his ability to handle an axe. No, what gets his curiosity is simply a chance to talk further with him, have a chat that's away from their house leader duties - the only time Claude has gotten to talk with him before, really.  
  
Technically, he learns nothing he didn't already know before. Dimitri is as upfront as his fighting style, and wants to do right by his kingdom. In the future, he'll probably be a good king, Claude imagines, so long as he doesn't get taken advantage of by those who are less valorous than he is. Claude can't tell if a personality like his would thrive in Almyra, or be eaten alive. Either way, in Fodlan, in Faerghus, it seems to be doing just fine, and if he sees a little bit of darkness in Dimitri, sometimes, how his gaze wanders off when thinking of the Tragedy or anything connected to it... Claude doesn't think much of it.  
  
The guy was just a kid, and he had to watch his father and countless innocents be slaughtered around him. If there wasn't a *bit* of darkness, a bit of pain still held over from then, Claude would frankly find that more suspicious than anything.  
  
But it's just Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the shining star of Faerghus's future, noble and kind and just. Their fairytale prince, who acts as a shield for those who cannot raise a shield in their own defense, and who pulls himself out of the ashes out of his own misery.  
  
Those are the first times, the times early on in their school year when they and so many of their classmates are still unknown to one another.  
  
The times after... Heh. The times after show there is so much more to Dimitri than just a fairytale prince, than a star that Faerghus can hold aloft without anyone ever actually touching it. That celestial brilliance still exists, of that Claude has no doubts. He sees it when Dimitri speaks passionately of interacting with the people royalty and nobles are meant to protect, light so harsh that it nearly hurts in some ways to a soul like himself who has learned to hold his words in darker spaces. He sees the guiding light of it when Dimitri connects with his peers as best he's able, holding himself up as a standard in whatever way he can.  
  
Even when he is on his own, Dimitri seems to shine brightly. If no one is there to see it, does a star still give off light? In the case of the crown prince of Faerghus, that's apparently true, as Claude stumbles upon him cooing over the horse he's brought from his homeland, or studying so diligently in the library late at night. Sometimes he catches Claude off-guard in their meetings, which he supposes is just liable to happen in such an enclosed space as Garreg Mach. But other times, like in the library... Those are the times Claude watches him silently for a while, not letting him know he's there, just to watch Dimitri work so diligently.  
  
Maybe Dimitri is not what one would call _sly_ , and things go over his head sometimes. (Claude made a joke about him crushing on Edelgard once, and it may as well have been hanging on the ceiling of the cathedral for all the good it did. He revises his thought that His Princeliness may be queer in some way.) Yet he works so hard, so determinedly, that he seems to get where he needs to go eventually anyway. That's... not a bad trait, Claude thinks.  
  
Perhaps it is not a bad trait because it is tempered with other things, and Claude learns about more of them when they go out riding together one day. A part of him is still thinking about how Dimitri asked him about wyverns, and how easy it was to throw him off the discussion. Faerghus, he now knows, prefers pegasi with heavy coats, but Almyra's hot climate does finely for a thriving wyvern population. That certainly sates some of his lust for knowledge, but that was an almost _professional_ discussion.  
  
Professional isn't enough for Claude, however, and he finds they're far enough from Garreg Mach after a nice solid half hour of riding for a bit of personal prodding. Nothing too serious, of course. Dimitri plays his life, his role, well enough, but Claude has finally come to learn, after talking with his own fellow Deer, that sometimes there are landmines in a person's life. Best not to poke. Best to start with something a bit light hearted, but that could still be revealing.  
  
So to the Kingdom of Faerghus's star, he casually asks, "What do you like about riding so much anyway? I know a lot of nobles _have_ to know how to ride horses while not particularly caring for the sport of it - I don't think I've ever once seen Felix Fraldarius so much as _look_ at a horse when Teach isn't forcing him to help take care of them - but you go out regularly, don't you?"  
  
It is no secret in Garreg Mach that things are tense between the future king and his future duke, the person who is traditionally meant to be his shield. At least, it's pretty obvious to anyone who pays even a modicum of attention to what's going on over in the Blue Lions house. Felix, while he would no doubt loathe the comparison, is very much like his king: obvious, honest, upfront. Biased, certainly, but he doesn't hide his feelings. Claude just suspects that he's somehow come to express a lot of them through sharpness and anger than anything else.  
  
Claude can't imagine it pleasant to deal with... but it must mean something to Dimitri as he smiles slightly at the mention of someone who was apparently a childhood friend. It's a faint expression, a little bittersweet... but the sweetness is still apparent nonetheless. Childhood bonds must be hard to truly sever, Claude supposes. He wouldn't know.  
  
That's something to file away for later thought. In the now, Dimitri just nods and doesn't deny his fondness for riding. If anything - "I suppose this would make me sound rather spoiled," he says, "but for me, riding... It helps make me feel a tad more free."  
  
Even Claude can't stop himself from blinking, but then he grins again. "So even you get tired of being responsible all the time, do you?" he asks, and feels - not exactly special, but pleased with himself, when he hears Dimitri laugh softly. It doesn't seem like something that gets brought out very often, so delicate and soft, a rare treasure that he wants to hoard away for himself.  
  
"It's simply nice to only be one's self, and horses don't often judge," Dimitri says, and smiles over over the path they're taking along the forest. Just past the trees, there's a small incline, and fields spread out before them so vividly green in the morning light. "But it is not something I can do forever. I am a prince, and will one day be king. I cannot simply self indulge too much. I may not have asked for this role, but I have it regardless. I need to use it for as much good as I possibly can."  
  
"Sounds like it would drive someone up the wall, Your Princeliness."  
  
"That isn't going to be encouraging for your fellows to hear from the future Duke Riegan," Dimitri scolds, but he's grinning just a little as he says it, voice lighter than it might be in Garreg Mach, and Claude laughs not only because 'Duke Claude von Riegan' is never going to happen. "And perhaps it could. But I like to think myself fortunate for what I possess."  
  
"And what do you possess, exactly?"  
  
"Horseback riding," Dimitri says, so blandly and upfront that it makes Claude laugh a little more himself. When he recovers, Dimitri is smiling at him, and the full force of it has Claude see why more than a few people in Garreg Mach feel something for the Faerghus prince. "Along with good friends." It's not just lip service, either. Claude can tell lies, can tell when people are holding themselves back.  
  
Dimitri isn't holding himself back when he looks at Claude, and when he metaphorically holds his hand out to him. But... it feels like he's holding himself back when he says he only needs this. It feels as though it's not quite the brightness of a star that shows when he tries to hold himself back with just horseback riding as a freedom, although Claude feels some sort of connection there.  
  
Almyra, too, finds a kind of freedom in riding, whether on the land or in the air.  
  
There is so much to look into and learn from Garreg Mach, honestly, and Claude is only human. He can't look into everything he _wants_ to look into, and what he wants to look into is _everything_. That means he often has to prioritize, and, well, Dimitri ends up a little bit low on the list. Not because Claude does not like him, because he think he could even for how stiff Dimitri holds himself. Not because Claude does not find him interesting, this starlit man who cares so much for other people that he shackles himself.  
  
Garreg Mach is just _a lot_ , and Dimitri is only one person in the end. So Claude digs through history, and mystery, and the strange events that seem doomed to pop up this year more than any other. Besides, he imagines that Dimitri must not be too bothered by it. If Claude finds him, on occasion, to be mildly bothersome, then surely his more free and relaxed ways must drive Dimitri up the wall much more in turn. _Certainly_ he's been scolded a good couple of times by the prince, for his underhanded ways and far too casual nature.  
  
But maybe His Princeliness is more intuitive than he first gave him credit for. Maybe, even if he hasn't bothered to dig into Dimitri's life or his personality, he cannot say the same of the return interest, at least not completely. The funny thing is that Claude isn't even entirely aware of it for a long while. Dimitri is so upfront and obvious, surely he'd notice if he was being paid any mind, right? He's proven wrong on that point, surprisingly enough, when he slips away from a conversation with Cyril only to almost walk right into Dimitri out in the hall.  
  
It's kind of hard to _not_ walk into Dimitri, honestly. He may not be as enormous as Raphael is, but there's no denying, when one is close up or has seen the prince strip, that he's a pretty sturdy bit of brick wall himself. Somehow, through some form of witchcraft that Claude has yet to understand, Dimitri is the kind of guy who seems perfectly average, until he's right next to you.... or, you know, right in front of you as you walk out of a library after a conversation, and Claude has to tilt his head back just to look at the guy's face.  
  
There's barely any time to do even _that_ little before Dimitri is jolting, guilt strewn all across his face. "Ah- good afternoon, Claude," he says, stilted and awkward in a way that says he's trying to buy a little bit of time for himself. Dimitri doesn't lie; that's long been established. It's just that he sometimes doesn't tell the whole truth, Claude has noticed, or at least hold the truth back until he can figure out how to reveal it in a way that isn't completely terrible. Dimitri isn't the kind of person who eavesdrops on purpose. He's terrible at it.  
  
That doesn't mean Claude holds back his teasing at all, grinning and speaking up before Dimitri can fumble out an excuse. " _My_ , His Highness, Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, _eavesdrops_! What a scandal!"  
  
Maybe time spent with him, even at a distance, has helped Dimitri recognize when Claude is making a joke, because he shakes his head, huffs a little bit, but he doesn't trip over himself in his own defense. It's almost a pity. Oh well. Claude is sure he can mess with him in a different way some other time. What's more surprising is when Dimitri crosses his arms and says, "We both know you are not the type to spread rumors and gossip, Claude."  
  
In the back of his head, Claude wonders when they reached first name basis, and what it says that he thinks Dimitri leapt to it quicker than he has. He wonders just what makes Dimitri so confident that Claude hoards information, not spreads it, and if his reasons are actual the truth. They're questions he doesn't ask, and instead just laughs. "We'll see."  
  
It's not much of an answer, and he suspects they both know it. Dimitri lets him have it regardless, and adjusts himself into that straight-spined and proper posture Claude has come to know so well. "I was hoping to look up something in the library," he says, apologetic, "but I had no idea you were having a private conversation. I wasn't entirely sure what to do for a moment."  
  
"It's no problem," Claude says, relaxed, casual. He didn't say anything that would be inherently suspicious, after all, and he suspects he'd have to try to be suspicious a little harder if he wanted to make Dimitri worry. Dimitri, this fairytale prince, this person who tries so hard and wants to understand so much. The more he knows of him, the more he likes of him. It's kind of terrible, really, so Claude tries to just enjoy the soft pleasantness of their interactions instead without attaching anything to it. It's been happening more often lately, he thinks. "Well, library is all yours!"  
  
And he's expecting that to be it. Expecting nothing more of it. But Dimitri doesn't thank him, doesn't move past him, move on. Instead, all he does is look at him for a moment, and something about his star light person seems dimmer, somehow. More considerate, and not as blinding. "I.... No, I suppose it is not my place."  
  
Now, his Princeliness can't just _say_ that, and expect Claude not to prod further. Before Dimitri can excuse himself, Claude leans in a little, curiosity snagged. "No, go on. We're fellow house leaders, Your Princeliness! What did you mean to say?"  
  
There's no immediate answer. Instead, Dimitri takes a moment to look around politely. No doubt stumbling onto a conversation himself has made him all the more aware of that kind of incident, although Claude doubts he has anything _severe_ to say. The conversation he had with Cyril was, again, not particularly revealing, and he has already come to know that Dimitri does not cast judgment on other countries.  
  
Yet that still doesn't really prepare him when Dimitri looks down at him with those deep blue eyes and says, "Sometimes, I wonder about how tethered you are, Claude."  
  
Claude's mind stutters for a second, taking that sentence in, wondering - but Dimitri keeps going, shaking his head as he does so. "I apologize, that must sound strange, and rude. I suppose what I was thinking is somewhat difficult to put into words. It is simply that..." His jaw moves, as if tasting the words before he lets them touch the air. "You speak with people so freely, and that shows in the way you ride whether for leisure or in battle. If I am honest-" As if he is anything but. "-it is almost admirable. Enviable, even, I suppose."  
  
That's something a little easier to respond to, and Claude smiles. An actual smile, even, he thinks, although he tries to temper it the moment he knows it's being formed. "You _could_ use a few lessons in how to relax. I'm pretty sure even Sylvain has mentioned that before. Or did I hear wrong about you having to spend a night or two in his dorm because of some bet or another?"  
  
Even without saying a word, Dimitri's blush gives away _that_ entire story, and he coughs into one hand. "That is a story for another time," he says, and Claude makes it a note to get the whole story out of him later. It sounds like it would be hilarious, and gods know they all need a little bit of that in their lives. "Regardless, what I mean to say is that, while I find it perhaps not a _bad_ trait... I do worry, I suppose."  
  
"And what brought this up?" Claude asks, interested in the process as much as the end result that Dimitri is getting to.  
  
Dimitri inclines his head, just the slightest amount, towards the library. "I tried not to hear all of your conversation with Cyril," he says, "and I like to think that I mostly succeeded. However, I could not help but overhear some of it. You displayed such an open mind, one that I wish was more common... I must admit I do not know much about the clashes between the Leicester Alliance and Almyra. I have some knowledge, of course, but it is often seen as the problem of another country. For us, our struggles are with Sreng. Still, there isn't anyone in all of Fodlan who isn't familiar with what you have to struggle with... and yet you still had such an open mind of Cyril, his circumstances, and it feels like Almyra in general. With your position as one in line to inherit the Riegan position... Well, as I said. It's admirable."  
  
With a guy like Dimitri, Claude knows he's being completely honest with this. No pretty words. Claude thinks of Duscur, of how vocally Dimitri fights for it, and smiles a little. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, but Dimitri continues.  
  
"Yet the way you talk about it all, and other things... It almost makes you seem - _untethered_. I do not mean to say you are wrong in what you are doing," Dimitri adds hastily, so earnest it hurts. "But you speak as if you are detached from it all... As though you are not properly connected to Leicester, or anywhere at all. I had thought such things far earlier when we first met, and felt I was being unfair because of my other emotions, such as petty annoyance, but I still felt it even now as I listened to you speak."  
  
If Dimitri felt he was being unkind before, then Claude feels he must surely have been unkind now. He'd never thought Dimitri particularly clever, or insightful... but he's just been seen right through here. Claude blinks, but manages to keep the smile on his face. "I didn't know I gave off that kind of impression," he says, laughing a little. "Is it bad, to seem that way?"  
  
"I suppose..." Dimitri pauses, another rolling of his words. "Well. To me it would seem lonely, to not have a place I felt I could sink back into when things become stressful." While Claude is reeling from that, Dimitri shakes his head. "I'm sorry - this is presumptuous of me. Please forget I said anything at all, I've been terribly rude."  
  
Claude taps his mouth. "Don't worry, Your Princeliness. I'll keep your bad eavesdropping habits a secret," he says, and then he laughs, and he leaves, and Dimitri shakes his head at his retreating back as though he has not been a sudden curtain of simultaneous darkness and revealing light spilled all over him. That sort of thing is not starlight, he realizes. Stars are anchored amongst darkness and strange color, a beacon to guide others and that is yet never reached. He doesn't know what Dimitri is, only that he is not _that_.  
  
There's still too much to dig into for him to spare time digging into the Faerghus prince, even though he wants to so very much. But Claude has learned to put aside certain things when pursuing the bigger picture, and so he does the same here. Yet he cannot turn his gaze away from Dimitri entirely. There is a puzzle here, a different kind of light and a different kind of corresponding darkness, that draws him in as helpless as a tide to shore. While he doesn't - shouldn't - throw his whole attention to the other man, just watching him from a distance seems to give him a variety of puzzle pieces to slowly connect together.  
  
The more he watches, whether upfront or from the corner of his eye, the more Claude starts to put together a more whole picture. The more the school year passes, the more he thinks Dimitri starts to change. Some of it almost seems like it shouldn't count, like after Remire. If anyone had seen that, wouldn't they be affected? The entire Blue Lions house certainly seems to be, although they all show varying signs of it to varying degrees of obviousness. Felix trains even harder, like he can dig his fingertips into the world and force it to be right. Mercedes is found even more often at the Cathedral, hands clasped, brows furrowed, murmuring things that seem to be half prayer and half thoughts worked through aloud.  
  
Dimitri trains like Felix trains, and Claude starts to find him spending long nights in the library more than he did before. He finds him all over for what look like to be long nights, as a matter of fact, whether with a book or a lance in hand, to a degree that he's certain Dedue or Mercedes would fuss about if they knew. Claude knows he's only catching glimpses of a life happening near his, with lots of other information missing... But with all of that in mind? To him, it looks as though Dimitri is running. Claude just can't tell if it's from or to something.  
  
What Claude once thought to be starlight doesn't exactly waver, but it isn't the same, either.  
  
He's certain that if he ever asked Dimitri upfront, he'd get more apologies, more of Dimitri hiding this warped light and darkness away like it's something to be shameful. _Is_ it shameful? Without the whole story, Claude can't tell. All he can do is watch, occasionally, and dig into the issues that are plaguing Garreg Mach all on his own. He watches the way Dimitri ebbs and wanes, bright as he tries to fulfill his duties, dark in the knights as he avoids what Claude suspects is already a rather limited amount of sleep. As the year begins to flow into the end, Claude feels as though they're all on tightropes... and Dimitri most of all.  
  
When everything finally makes sense on the Dimitri front, it happens at a somewhat _inopportune_ time, and comes crashing down, all at once - not too unlike the realization that Edelgard has turned on basically every single Fodlan entity outside of the Empire and the Imperial army suddenly dropped on the church's doorstep. So maybe it's fitting, in that light. Claude doesn't really think on it too hard, honestly. He's too busy notching arrows to bow, taking down pegasi knights straight from the air, and then to soldiers on the ground who realize they need to take out the archer. Arrows only last so long, however. He runs out, and a soldier closes in on him quicker than he expected, quicker than his hand can wrap around the hilt of his axe-  
  
A force of nature tears past him, the rush of a lance cutting through sharp as the crescent of the moon, and then there's Dimitri. Even at a distance, Claude had been able to tell how shattered the other man is - a cluster of jagged edges and broken corners strung up in the shape of a person. At such a close distance, however... His fingers find his axe, and his mind stays aware of the many students behind him - behind him _and_ Dimitri - who are trying to evacuate. Who are trying to escape this attack, this _war_ , that they never asked for.  
  
That's his reason for fighting, at any rate, and he can see, in the distance, many of the others, Blue Lion and Golden Deer alike, who are doing the same. There's Ignatz, lining up a shot while Sylvain wreaks havoc on his horse to keep away soldiers that might stop the archer. A different soldier is outright _yanked_ from his own steed and tossed across the battlefield by Raphael, who is helping to guard Mercedes, Lorenz, and Annette as they ward off a demonic beast. Arrows go flying through the air as Leonie stands atop a small stone tower, taking out the various soldiers Felix goads into the perfect spot.  
  
All of them are fighting to protect. Dimitri? Claude twists himself, gathering as much momentum as he can into the next swing of his axe to force another Imperial soldier back. He's fairly certain that Dimitri is only here because it looked like Hubert used some sort of teleportation magic to get them both out of here, and the prince needs to unleash some pent up anger at _some_ one. Claude tells himself he doesn't mind. Whatever keeps that lance pointed at the enemy, and used for his own gain, right?  
  
Even if it is maybe disappointing, deep inside, to think that there's none of that light there, just some void where a person used to be.  
  
He thinks that right up until an imperial knight breaks past the two of them when they're preoccupied with other soldiers. If it's Edelgard, maybe there's no intent to harm, just capture, redirect - but Claude can't afford to be so optimistic in this kind of scenario. All he can do is kick away another soldier, turn even as he knows he's too late- But then Dimitri's spear goes right through armor, a kind of morbid _pop_ of metal going through metal going through flesh. Dimitri doesn't get his weapon again, just grabs the lance of another soldier to fling him distinctly _away_ from the remaining students still evacuating Garreg Mach. As he twists, Claude looks into his face, those bright blue eyes, and he realizes the light never left at all.  
  
The light never left. The darkness never did either, all the way back from the Tragedy. Dimitri was never a star, and Claude remembers this when he is flying over the fields of Gronder to get a better look at what he has to work with to keep his people safe. He remembers this when he looks down, and sees a blur of black and blue tearing through Imperial soldiers like a wraith in the night.  
  
Dimitri is a moon, waning. Claude can only hope they are both there to see him wax light again.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"You used to think of me as a _star_?" Claude asks, and he laughs - loud, from the lungs, a beautiful peal that has every little syllable feel so _full_. Dimitri admires it, and how it fills up the sea air. There is nothing but the two of them right now, in a little boat they managed to grab like a pair of sly school children instead of the grown adults, the _kings_ , that they both are. So now it's just them in a little fishing boat, sailing on the night sky even as it shines above them, with Derdriu's warm lights a guide back home.  
  
That doesn't mean he doesn't go a little pink, still, at Claude's amusement over his romanticism. "I thought it fit you!" he protests, over the sounds of Claude's snorts - such a rough and honest sound, his heart swells a little. Well, he supposes he ought to just go all in, so Dimitri amends, "I _still_ thinks it fits you, my star-hearted love."  
  
High above them, the moon is harvest full, but that's still hardly enough light to see if Claude's skin has gained that deep rosy color Dimitri has had a whole year to grow familiar with. What he _can_ do is hear the way Claude's laughter quiets, and see how those beautiful eyes glance at him from the side. "Star-hearted, huh?" Claude murmurs, smile curling out from behind the hand he has at his lips. "A little corny, isn't it, Mitya?"  
  
"I don't care," Dimitri says simply, and leans in closer. Derdriu is warmer than Fhirdiad, where he spends most of his time. There's been talks of moving the capital, now that three countries have become one... but it's such a mess. Although, like this, in the warm night air of Derdriu's waters, he doesn't think he'd mind it. Or maybe it's just the feel of his arm brushing against Claude's that he doesn't mind. "It's one of the most beautiful things I could think of, and your heart is the only thing that would beat out a star."  
  
Claude is definitely blushing. He can't see it, but he can feel the heat of it, their faces so close together. " _Corny_ ," he murmurs, his own body turned towards Dimitri now as well. "I think you're the only person in the world that would compare my heart to a star."  
  
Maybe it's another comment about how 'corny' he is. Dimitri cannot help but read it another way, however, especially with how Claude views himself as an outsider, a pragmatist, above all else at times. Or, rather, how the rest of the world views him. So Dimitri leans in, kisses at the warmth burning up Claude's cheeks. "Your heart burns bright amidst so much darkness," he whispers against his skin, trailing down to his jaw. He doesn't mind the soft hair he finds there. "And people know it. They knew that if they look towards that star, if they become a part of that glorious constellation, then they'll find their way home, even if 'home' doesn't truly exist yet."  
  
Tilting his head back, Claude allows Dimitri to push him down against the boat's floor and his lips to Claude's throat. He can feel his soft laughter as he kisses him. "Gods, but there was something waiting in you all this time to be unleashed for the most romantic of things, wasn't there?" he sighs to the moon, fingers tangling in Dimitri's hair. "Although if we're making confessions about each other and any likeness to celestial bodies, then I'll admit that I thought you like the moon, more than a few times."  
  
Blinking, Dimitri pulls away to stare down at Claude with a blank expression. "The moon?" he echoes, looking back over his shoulder at the pale orb watching over all of them, and the rest of Derdriu, the rest of Fodlan, other places he can't even begin to know. Not yet, anyway. He's working on it. "That... isn't the first thing I would have thought of."  
  
Most nobility, as is often the style and has been for a very long time he supposes, refer to him more as Fodlan's sun. Their radiant protector, meant to bring about a glorious new age after the dark miseries of war. It's a lot of pressure, and Dimitri felt he already had that in spades back _before_ the war, when he was only a crown prince to one nation instead of three brought together into one again. He understands why the title exists as it does, really. Sunlight reveals everything that was once hidden, and is one of the important things which helps crops to grow. The sun guides their days, and its disappearance signal rest.  
  
The moon is... he frowns slightly at it, lost in thought until Claude's fingers are sliding through his hair. "I know," he says, so remnant of a chance encounter years ago, one that Dimitri can still remember. "But I'm pretty sure that a lot of people say things of you that I necessarily wouldn't." His lips curve in a teasing smile. "Like a noble and gallant king, while I can distinctly remember how you complain about having to dance every time any sort of function or get together happens-" Dimitri groans, and Claude's words trail off into laughter.  
  
"Yes, it is a bad habit of yours," he tells Claude, leaning down to pepper more kisses along his cheeks and listen to Claude laugh even more. It's so deep, it makes his chest shake, and Dimitri couldn't be more in love. "But I wonder at your reasoning, you know. I did not think myself to be particularly mysterious, and certainly not enough to be associated with the moon."  
  
Claude's eyes shine with their own kind of light, separate from how the moon in question reflects inn them. "Who said mystery was the only thing connected to the moon?" he asks, sweeping some of Dimitri's hair back, behind his ear. There, he wears a small earring - one of Claude's given to him a year or so back before he had to return to Almyra for a short while. Ever since then, he's worn it always. "There's change, for starters. And duality." His fingertips linger along the curve of Dimitri's neck. "And you have plenty of it."  
  
Being reminded of what his 'duality' is... Dimitri's gaze flicks away, but Claude's hand slides from neck to his cheek, and he keeps them facing each other. "Hey," Claude says gently. "It's not a bad thing. I mean, one or the other too far is _definitely_ a bad thing... but you're allowed to be human, Dimitri." This time, it's him who leans up, presses kisses against Dimitri's face. "And it's part of what makes you a good person, and a good king... knowing those dual parts of yourself, and others. It's all the same person."  
  
"Some may disagree."  
  
Claude smiles. "They can say a new moon is gone, but that doesn't change the fact that it's there still. It just needs the comfort of darkness, of being to itself, for a little while. Same as you. I know it will always still be full of light regardless, and show it to me once again."  
  
"A little corny, isn't it, Khalid?" he asks, and presses his smiling kisses down against Claude's throat as he laughs, as he holds onto him, as they hold onto each other while floating through the stars.  
  
Over them, the moon waxes.

**Author's Note:**

> "I'll just make a short fic where they compare each other to the moon and stars" i said
> 
> "that should be short enough right" i said 
> 
> i'm a liar and a masochist
> 
> also my brain forgot the prompt was "day and night" but, like... the sun is a star, right.... this still kind of counts on that end.... right.... lmf


End file.
